


Separate Spheres

by whopooh



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: August trope, F/M, Phryne is about to find out, does Jack Robinson have friends?, movie gala, the dulcinea effect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: Jack is invited to a party, and Phryne wants to save him from embarrassment.I know this is trying to fit into the trope with a shoehorn, but I couldn't resist. Set after S2ep11, "Dead Air".





	Separate Spheres

Phryne was on her way to have drinks with Mac at the Adventuresses’ Club when she decided to make a quick stop at City South on the way. She had spent the afternoon treating Dot to a lovely gown as an engagement gift – it was only three days since Dot and Hugh had declared their intent to marry at Phryne’s place. As she drove her Hispano-Suiza, Phryne thought about the short speech she had held for them – she was still rather pleased with “constabulary charm” as a designation for Hugh. 

The gown for Dot also had a second purpose: it was meant for the gala night for the talkie “Bride of Babylon”, to which both Phryne and Dot had been invited. It would be a splash of an event. Dot was excited like a child before Christmas, filled with all her love of glamorous movie stars – curiously enough it hadn’t diminished despite actually meeting a few of them on the movie set. 

Raymond’s talking movie, that Phryne had sponsored and saved, had become an unexpected success, and he had decided to thank everyone who’d made it possible with a full night of festivity. “It might be my only chance”, he’d explained to Phryne as he hand delivered the invitation for a gala the coming Saturday to her at Wardlow. 

At City South, Phryne briskly walked in, waving at Hugh busying himself at the desk, and quickly sashayed into the room with the telltale letters “J. Robinson” outlined on the door.

“Jack!” she exclaimed as she entered, meeting his gaze as he looked up from a document, noticing the slow smile spread over his face. Jack watched her progression until she stopped by his side, sitting down on the corner of his desk.

“Miss Fisher,” he finally grumbled, reclining in his chair so he could assess her from below. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Phryne smiled her best half-flirtatious smile – the one she had developed especially for him.

“I needed to ask about your progress of the case of the eloped adventuress. I want to tell Mac all about it tonight.”

Jack obliged, describing the dead end the investigation was at for the moment.

“Sounds like I’ll have to make some unofficial enquiries,” Phryne said.

“I would much appreciate it if you did.” 

The smile he gave her was fond, just like it had been at the piano some nights ago when he started to play “Let’s Misbehave”, and she felt her heart skip a beat. _When he smiled like that…_ She didn’t have time to finish the thought before she recognised a golden envelope at the other end of his desk. An invitation – of course! How stupid of her. Jack had contributed to the film, both by solving the case and by adding his voice to the talkie – of course he too would be invited. 

But he’d have to go alone, wouldn’t he, she suddenly realised, assessing him with a fraction of pity and something else that she didn’t care to examine further. He didn’t have a wife anymore, and frankly he didn’t seem to have many friends, and she’d never heard anything about a new woman in his life. Phryne decidedly did not put herself anywhere near that last thought, but still felt she would have known or noticed. Poor Jack, going alone, or perhaps not going at all because he’d think it would be too awkward to go alone? That would be a tragedy – especially as she knew how good he looked in his evening dress. 

Well, she racked her brain, if he could be her saviour – carrying her from a madman’s Egyptian tomb, or driving all the way to Maiden Creek for her – surely she could step up and save him when things got socially complicated? She could be a knight on a white horse. There was nothing wrong with female knights, and she did have extensive experience in the gala direction. She probably could even help him avoid an embarrassing situation or two with the more thespian side of the party. Phryne made a hasty decision and turned to look Jack square in the eyes.

“I see you’re invited to Raymond’s gala,” she said. 

Jack nodded with a grunt.

“You really should go. I’m sure it will be fun, and you ought to get out a bit sometimes. If you don’t want to go alone, we could go together,” she offered almost casually. 

The tips of Jack’s ears turned a little bit red as he looked at her.

“Umm, I…” he said. “Thank you, but... I’ve already arranged for a date.”

It took a few moments for Phryne to comprehend his words; the combination of “Jack” and “a date” didn’t seem to fit and she couldn’t imagine him being on anything as mundane as a date. With a woman. _Except perhaps with her_ , her traitorous brain supplied before she silenced it decisively. She leaned back a little, putting more space in between the two of them while watching Jack’s eyes flick away so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes.

“Of course,” she said, sensing her pitch rise but deciding to ignore it. “Of course you have.”

There were few things Phryne Fisher hated more than being put on the back foot. It was not to be tolerated. She collected herself and rose. 

Jack was about to say something, probably trying to smooth over the situation, but she talked over him:

“Then I’ll be happy to see you there, Inspector.”

She swirled around, throwing a dazzling smile his way that was almost not fake at all, as she exited the door, throwing in a last sentence over her shoulder. 

“Thank you for the information; Mac will want to hear all about it.”

 

**

 

The venue for the gala party was a luxurious hotel in the middle of town, with vaguely middle eastern décor in honour of the movie they were celebrating. It was very fake, very lush, and slightly overwhelming. Jack entered the ballroom with some trepidation. What had Phryne’s thrown out suggestion, her offhand invitation, really meant? And even more, her embarrassment and quick escape? He didn’t know how to interpret it. He hadn’t seen her since either. There had been no reason for him to turn up at her place – no evidence to offer her voracious mind and no successful case to celebrate – and she hadn’t come by at the station.

The woman on his arm as he walked through the lush room was a red-haired woman of his own age, beautifully but not too ostentatiously dressed in a dark red dress that matched her hair spectacularly. Added to her outfit was a fascinator that wasn’t completely suited for her hair colour. The most stunning part was her shoes, that glittered in gold. Jack wore his best tuxedo and they matched beautifully.

“Collins! Miss Williams,” he amiably greeted his friends as he caught their eyes. “This is Miss Sarah O’Brien, Sarah please meet Hugh Collins, my constable, and his fiancée Miss Dorothy Williams.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Dot said, although a small frown formed on her brow as she said it. Hugh smiled, slightly embarrassed as was his habit, and kissed the lady’s hand.

“A constable! How lovely,” Sarah smiled at him. “Jack is so secretive, he never mixes work and friends. You are the first of his colleagues I ever meet. And I bet you’ve never heard of my existence.”

Flustered, Hugh agreed that he hadn’t.

“I just try to keep my worlds separate,” Jack said defensively. 

His small smile didn’t make it all the way up to his eyes. He hadn’t thought this through properly – what it would mean to actually let these different worlds of his collide. He hadn’t really had a choice – he knew how much Sarah loved the moving pictures. When he got the invitation he felt he had to ask her to come, and if he hadn’t, she would never have let him live it down. Just as that thought crossed his mind, he spotted Phryne entering the room, obviously fashionably late as well as fashionably dressed. He felt sweat break out on his forehead – suddenly this seemed like an awful idea. She noticed him, noticed his companion, and immediately headed over to their side of the large room.

“Jack!” she exclaimed, passing the last couple standing in her way and throwing him one of her brightest smiles. 

She wore an outfit that was dashing and only bordering on scandalous; it suggested more than it showed, and its partly see-through blue-green material shimmered as she moved. In her hair she had the same headpiece she had worn when they’d gone to the theatre together last year; it seemed it was her thespian look. She was stunning, and she clearly knew it.

“Miss Fisher,” he answered, slightly breathless while taking her in, then remembering himself and repeating the introductions to his companion, who raised a small eyebrow at the mention of “honourable”. Hugh and Dot exchanged glances and took the chance to wander on further into the room; Dot was set on identifying as many actors as possible.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss O’Brien. And please, call me Phryne,” she said, assessing Jack’s date curiously. “Likewise, Sarah,” the woman answered. 

Phryne immediately saw the woman before her was both clever and rather beautiful, but the thing that shocked her was the way Jack and Sarah looked like they fit together; this was much more visible than with Rosie, although he had been married to her. There was a familiarity between them, and it was so clear they belonged to the same world, while Phryne Fisher lived her life in an entirely different realm. More glamorous, more fun, but above all distinctly foreign. Never had she felt the gap between herself and Jack more clearly than when she saw the sweet, red-haired Sarah smiling at her by Jack’s side. 

“Sarah is a childhood friend, and she loves the moving pictures,” Jack said while rather pointedly meeting her eyes. Phryne understood what he was trying to tell her: _This is my friend, just a friend._ For some reason, that made her breath hitch – a physical phenomenon Phryne had decided years ago was completely unacceptable for a worldly lady like herself. _Jack had a friend._ A female friend. An obviously very close friend. And she had no idea. She thought she knew him, but he had whole areas she had never seen, while she had invited him into almost every crook and corner of her own complicated and intriguing life. Phryne hid her mutinously hitched breath behind a well-mannered, gloved hand, looked around as if just realising something, and said:

“Will you excuse me for a moment. It seems I am needed elsewhere.” 

Jack followed her retreat with an unreadable expression on his face. As soon as Phryne was gone, Sarah turned to him, her eyes ablaze.

“Jack Robinson. How on Earth do you know such a glamourous woman?”

He turned towards her, clearly trying his best to be impenetrable.

“Oh, just from work.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him.

“There is no way you can make me believe the police women in this country look like _that_.” 

He motioned his head in a noncommittal fashion, slightly embarrassed.

“You remember I’ve mentioned a woman that helps me on cases sometimes, don’t you?” 

There was quite a long silence before Sarah answered. 

“You said she was a _spinster_ , Jack. I was sure she was a 70-year-old sweet and surprisingly observant lady, not... not… not something like this.”

Jack snorted.

“Well, that would have made the case where she dressed up as a Spanish fan dancer in a gentlemen’s club very odd.”

Sarah looked at him sternly.

“I can’t believe you’ve kept her for yourself for so long. This is ridiculous! You must let me get to know her. You clearly know each other well and I can see you are completely smitten.” 

“I am not smitten,” Jack said, blushing.

Sarah looked at him fondly, reaching out her hand to touch his reddened cheek. 

“Of course you aren’t.”

 

**

 

From the other side of the room, Phryne couldn’t help watching the two of them, deep in conversation, laughing, and Sarah briefly caressing Jack’s cheek as if it was the most natural thing to do. She took a deep breath. This is not a problem, she thought. Why would this ever be a problem? Why would Jack Robinson not have friends? She couldn’t feel betrayed because he’d never told her that. _Stop being ridiculous, Phryne_. 

She went to the buffet and picked samples of the different delicious appetizers. Melon and figs that made her think of her time in Rome. Sandwiches that could almost compete with Mr Butler’s. Fig fudge, which made her smile. And escargots… she realised, discombobulated, that they didn’t make her think about Paris, as they used to. They made her think of the taste of Jack Robinson as he kissed her. _That man, was he adjusting her memories now too?_

She dived into conversations, encouraging Dot to dance although she only knew one kind of dance – Phryne made a mental note of having dance classes at home – and she had a thoroughly enjoyable talk with a slightly inebriated Raymond about the film. Clara joined in, and Phryne was happy to see how radiant she was – even more than she had already been before.

Phryne danced two dances with Raymond and one with Jamie Allen, the applauded male lead of the movie. When she retreated to have something more to drink, Sarah headed towards her. Phryne smiled and took the chance to talk to her. As surprised as she was by the woman’s existence, she was also terribly curious, and any woman who was friends with Jack Robinson was worth meeting.

“What did you think of the movie? Did you realise Jack’s one of the stars in it?” she asked, and Sarah admitted she wouldn’t have realised if Jack hadn’t tipped her off beforehand. 

Soon they were deep in conversation, both enjoying getting to know another woman that intrigued them. When Phryne mentioned the Adventuresses’ Club Sarah spiked her ears – almost like an attentive dog, Phryne thought – and Phryne promised to introduce her there. It was obvious the redhead was overjoyed with the prospect, and Phryne was looking forward to it.

They fell silent for a while, watching the room side by side. It struck Phryne that this was exactly the way she had stood some time earlier with another woman from Jack’s life, Rosie, watching a less festive gathering, the wake of a football player. 

An unexpected stillness to the left caught both their eyes. They saw Jack standing by a pillar with a drink in his hand, having just managed to flee from an overly attentive dance partner and finding his favoured position, watching from the sideline.

“He always wants things he cannot have,” Sarah said.

“He does?” Phryne’s voice betrayed her surprise at this statement about her composed Inspector.

Sarah nodded, amused.

“Like Rosie. She was out of his league. Came from the other side of Richmond, the fancy side. And she was one year older, one class above us in high school, so we weren't even supposed to talk, really.”

“But they married.”

“I know. I didn't say he doesn't get the things he cannot have.” 

She shot Phryne a curious glance. “It just takes longer, I suppose.”

Phryne pondered this and tried to reconcile her image of Jack with this statement. He was stubborn as an ass when it suited him, of course, so it sounded rather plausible.

They watched as Clara joined Jack by the pillar and said something to him; he was obviously pleased to see her and they were soon in the midst of an enthusiastic conversation. Jack tilted his head at her as she said something particularly amusing.

“He has this incredible way of listening, doesn't he?” Sarah said with an air of sisterly fondness. “And understanding people.”

Phryne nodded. She'd seen it at work, many times, and she'd also been subjected to that gaze where he just seemed to know and care about her. She would never forget his gentleness when she sat by Renés dead body in Café Repliqué. Sarah didn’t seem to catch the melancholy tone of her thoughts, because she continued.

“He wasn't like that at all, when we were kids. Much more brazen, competitive, and mostly out having fun with the boys. It all changed. In the war, I guess, but also before that.” She brooded for a while. “He's a much better man now, I'd say. Handsomer too – he's really grown into his looks.”

“You seem to have thought about this a lot.”

“Of course I have. I was his first love, you know,” Sarah said with a mischievous glint in her eyes, trying to see if she could rattle this composed, beautiful, honourable, and slightly impenetrable Miss Fisher. She thought she could hear a quick intake of breath, but Phryne was too good at hiding her reactions for her to be quite sure.

“Really?” Phryne said. 

She chanced a glance at Sarah, who smiled sunnily.

“He was five. I was four and a half. At six I promised I’d marry his brother when we grew up.”

They both laughed.

“Of course I never did, not Sam and not anyone else either.” 

Phryne made a mental note that she needed to ask Jack about his brother at some point. Was he alive, or had he perhaps died in battle? The way this evening was going, her mental notebook was becoming rather full. 

“It seems I love my own life too much to add anyone else into it,” Sarah continued, and received an understanding nod from her companion. There was something about Phryne that invited confidences, she found, so after a slight pause she added:

“That’s the official story, at least, and it’s the main reason. The unofficial is that there’s also a man I never seem to be able to forget, and he makes all the others uninteresting. They just can’t compete.”

She saw Phryne looking stunned, and started talking faster.

“No, not Jack! Not Jack, obviously, he is only a dear friend. No, this one was much more… dark, and stormy, and incredibly exciting… prone to go walk-about too, unfortunately. Not the reliable kind. He disappeared. I never saw him again.” 

Phryne was struck – by Sarah’s story, but even more by what her own reaction said about herself. She tried to fathom how it could be that it was the proper, reliable, buttoned-up detective inspector that seemed to trigger all her present ideas of excitement. When had this happened? When had his voice and his smile started to intrude on her thoughts about men? It had simply creeped up on her. She too usually liked exciting, exotic men. Mac had even once accused her of collecting men from different ethnicities, but that was really only a coincidence – it just seemed that delicious men came in all flavours and colours and sizes. When had her sense of excitement started to focus on that quiet and steadfast man, instead of the flimsy young lads? Putting it like that, though, she found she couldn’t really mind. She didn’t even mind Sarah’s curious gaze at her while she stood, lost in thought and her eyes set on the man by the pillar, who now moved to take Clara’s hand for a dance.

Phryne forced herself to not look at him, and instead focused on the woman by her side. She wondered whether she would be able to track down this elusive man for Sarah – but also if Sarah would want her to. Perhaps some men were best remembered as exciting memories of lost times, and not retrieved and viewed in full daylight? She smiled at her earlier attempts to play the saviour and knight in shining armour, asking Jack to the gala. Perhaps she shouldn’t try that route again so soon. Perhaps she could ask Jack what he knew about the mystery man first. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Men – they’re always complicating things, aren’t they?”

“They sure are,” Sarah said, lost in her own thoughts.

 

**

 

After some time, Phryne was whisked away by the most handsome man in the room, an heir to a large inheritance that Raymond hoped would be interested in funding his next movie. Sarah stood watching the dance, seeing Jack’s constable managing to dance with his sweet fiancée, and watching as several actors and professional dancers stole the centre stage. Jack came and joined her, with a new glass of champagne for her that she gratefully accepted. 

Her eyes strayed to Phryne, giving her full-throated laugh to something her dance partner was saying. He was caressing her back a little too blatantly.

”I just don't see what she sees in you,” she said contemplatively to the man by her side.

“What do you mean?” he said, his voice betraying nothing.

Sarah eyed him.

“You are lovely, of course, Jack dear. But she's... she's... spectacular. Out of this world.”

“I am aware of _that_ part”. He produced one of his almost smiles. “I meant, what do you mean by what she sees in me?”

“Have you not seen the way she looks at you? Like she wants nothing more than to bring you home this instant, but also wouldn’t if she had the chance.”

Jack laughed.

“The paradox of the modern woman.”

“Is that what it is?” she teased. ”I thought I was modern and I never seem to have _that_ problem.”

“Not modern enough, then,” he said, laughing at her mock annoyed expression.

“In that case, I guess I’ll have to befriend your mysterious colleague more and learn,” she retorted, taking pride in the way his eyes widened at the prospect. “That Adventuresses’ Club of hers sounds absolutely fascinating.”

 

**

 

An hour later, Phryne found herself in a quiet spot, finally able to stand still for a moment and sip a glass of the excellent champagne. Before she had time to decide whom would be the next victim to assault with her exuberant presence, Jack came up next to her. He stood beside her, watching the crowd and the dancers.

“Enjoyable evening, Miss Fisher?” he asked, throwing a side glance her way.

After a short silence she answered, her eyes still on the crowd. He detected a wistful tone to her voice.

“I never knew you had woman friends, Jack,” she said. “To be fair, I didn’t even know you had friends. You are quite the enigma.”

He shrugged.

“And see what happens once you know it – you immediately take her away from me and I get to stand all alone at a party,” he teased. 

She smiled, but again there was that pensive feel to it.

“I never saw you so… light-hearted with another person. I realised I only ever see you when you’re working. Except perhaps when you come to me for nightcaps.”

He finished his drink and picked up another one from a waiter passing by.

“She’s one of my dearest friends. Did she also tell you she was my first love? She loves to tell that story.”

“She did. I had never wondered about your first love before.”

“I was only five at the time,” he said, smiling. “I have friends,” he continued. “I have more friends like her, too. Lovely girls. Men too, but some of my best friends are women.”

“Considering how well you seem to understand women, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“And yet you are.”

She kept on looking out at the dance floor.

“I guess I never pictured you with friends.”

“At all? You must have a sad view of me.”

Phryne smiled and turned to him, reaching out to put her hand on his arm.

“It’s just…you seem to always have time for a nightcap with me.”

He looked into her eyes and swallowed visibly, acutely aware of her palm touching his sleeve, of her body being next to him, breathing and moving ever so slightly. He felt goose bumps spread on his arms. They swayed closer together, without even noticing; their gazes mingling, the world around them falling away, his eyes falling down to her lips.

“That’s,” he said, but he was so hoarse he needed to clear his throat and start again. “That’s because you have the best whiskey.”

She laughed, incredulous and delighted, breaking the moment.

“I’m sure I have.”

They stood again beside each other, silently watching the party become more raucous. After a long while, he broke the silence.

“I... guess I just like to keep things separate, Miss Fisher. Orderly. And all my friends know Rosie. I don’t even know what I would introduce you as.”

“Perhaps the old spinster helping you out with your cases sometimes?”

Jack blushed, but swiftly collected himself. Trust Sarah to spill _all_ his beans, particularly the embarrassing ones.

“I suppose that's one way of describing it.”

Phryne felt an urge to stand up on her toes and crush her lips to his, hard, with her fist in his hair to drag him as closely to her as she could. Impossible man! How could he stand there and just, just be there, and making her uncertain of what she wanted from him. That she wanted him. Or even worse, not uncertain: she did want him. Damn it, this rattled her world so much she didn’t even know how to start thinking about it. She wanted him, and she knew he wasn’t like her young, easy lovers. He was honour and consideration and… a friend. He really was her friend, first. Whatever they did, it needed to be well thought through.

They stood there in companionable silence for what felt like an eternity. 

When it was time to go, Jack realised he’d never asked her to dance with him. She had stood there beside him, they had had such an intimate conversation, and it wasn’t that long ago she had described their relationship as a dance. He had agreed to them being a waltz. And yet he hadn’t asked her – not once, not even when there was a waltz playing. She must have thought he didn’t want to dance with her. He cursed himself for being so stupid. 

As he had donned coat and fedora and was walking home through the city with Sarah by his side, he gave himself a solemn promise. At some point in time, he would ask Phryne Fisher to dance with him, properly. And it would be a waltz she would always remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to Fire_Sign for betaing!


End file.
